


I had all and then most of you (Some and now none of you)

by Some_Dead_Guy



Series: Grindeldore Oneshots [5]
Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Character Study, Kinda, M/M, Mirror of Erised, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-14
Updated: 2019-10-14
Packaged: 2020-12-15 22:36:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21025856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Some_Dead_Guy/pseuds/Some_Dead_Guy
Summary: Albus reminisces about what he had with Gellert in front of the mirror of Erised.





	I had all and then most of you (Some and now none of you)

**Author's Note:**

> This is not beta-read so please excuse all my mistakes.

Albus sits in front of the mirror of Erised and sees everything he could ever want, his deepest desire. He’s sees Gellert Grindelwald, he sees a boy he fell in love with in the summer of 1899, he sees a man who has killed dozens of people in the pursuit of his goal, sees his first and last love. He sees a tragedy and lost chances and promises of forever and a love story that shouldn’t of ended.

And Albus knows he shouldn’t be doing this, shouldn’t torture himself like this, but he’s so  _ desperate.  _ He’s desperate and just wishes, wishes with his whole being that everything could have worked out. He agonizes over every little memory, thinks of everything that went horribly wrong and  _ kills  _ himself thinking of all the things he could have done differently to change the outcome. Maybe there never was supposed to be a happy ending, maybe it was somehow always destined to end in heartbreak. 

But that just makes everything worse, taints all the beautiful memories he has of Gellert, because no matter how much Albus wants to tell himself Gellert only used him, that none of what they had was real, something in him feels warm at the thought of late night conversations and gentle kisses and reading books in comfortable silence.

Because no matter how terrible everything went, Albus thinks of Gellert and can not come to hate him. Albus is no idiot, he is not blind to Gellert’s atrocities, but he still has memories of a lover and soft words, and each time he sees pictures of Gellert or his name in newspapers he can not stop himself from remembering a young boy that had kissed him and said he loved him. 

He looks into the mirror, holds Gellert’s gaze. He never speaks, because he is only a projection of Albus’s desires, but Albus wishes he did. Albus wants to hear his voice, wants to touch him, wants to scream and cry and kiss him, but he can’t because he’s just a mirror. 

Albus tentatively places his hand against the mirror’s surface, watches as Gellert places his hand in the same spot. If Albus imagines hard enough, he can convince himself that there’s warmth, convince himself that what he’s touching is actual flesh instead of the unattainable notions of a sad man lost in old memories and his own musings.

Gellert almost looks upset, frowning, eyes drooped. Albus thinks he may look so because Albus wants him to, because Albus selfishly hopes Gellert was left in the same agony he was, hopes that Gellert was left just as empty. 

And Albus did feel like he lost something vital when Gellert left, felt as if something important was ripped from him, taken, and now he’s left with some gaping hole he can’t seem to fill. And Albus did try to fill  _ something _ , tried to see other people, tried to find someone who could make him feel even a fraction of what Gellert did. He didn’t succeed, no one could ever even compare, none were as satisfying as he wanted them to be. 

Albus splays his fingers out, watches as the Gellert in the mirror copies the motion. He’s ever silent, and Albus hates the silence, and begins to speak despite knowing he will receive no answer. “Do you regret it? Leaving me?”

Albus likes to think that somewhere deep down, Gellert does. He likes to think that he loved Albus just as much as he said he did, but he supposes he’ll never truly know. It’s all too likely that Gellert never felt anything for him, only saw his power and willingness, that the only thing Gellert wanted was someone to help him reach his ideation of The Greater Good.  _ Their  _ ideation once.

And all the while Albus thought the world of Gellert, he saw someone brilliant and beautiful, intelligent and ambitious and everything Albus could ever want. Albus would have followed Gellert to the ends of the Earth. He was in love, is in love, and always will be in love with Gellert Grindelwald. 

And seeing him in the mirror, seeing Gellert as he is now, Albus knows that his deepest desire is Gellert, knows that even if he tries to tell himself he’s in love with memories and not Gellert himself, he’s seeing that it’s a lie. He’s in love with Gellert, then and now, and he can’t change any of it.

Albus briefly wonders what everyone would say if they knew of all these thoughts, if they knew of Gellert and him. Albus is seen as their only hope, seen as the only person capable of matching Gellert’s power, and Albus can’t even fight him. He can’t hurt Gellert, and Gellert can’t hurt him because of a promise made of blood and magic when they were mere teenagers. 

Albus doesn’t even know if he’d be able to fight Gellert without the blood pact, doesn’t know if he could ever bring himself to do it.

Though, Albus often sees their blood pact when he looks in the mirror. He sees them lacing their fingers together, sees everything he wants. He wants someone to understand him again, because that’s one of the many things that made Gellert so easy to love, so easy to fall into, his ability to make Albus feel completely understood. Nothing about him would ever seem disgusting to Gellert, every part of him accepted and  _ seen. _ Gellert didn’t see a part of Albus, didn’t seem to just see what he only wanted to see, he saw all of Albus and  _ understood _ .

For a moment, Albus thinks of simply giving in. He thinks of joining Gellert, thinks of fulfilling promises of a revolution. He wonders if Gellert would take him back, and then imagines them being unstoppable, every witch and wizard falling before them because who could possibly match Gellert Grindelwald and Albus Dumbledore together? 

Albus is almost ashamed of himself, because some part of him still considers it an option. Some part of him thinks that if he were to see Gellert again, he’s unsure he’d be able to stop himself from just taking everything he wants.

Albus leans his head against the mirror, Gellert copying him once more. He remembers doing this in their youth, leaning into each other, touching and kissing and getting as close as they possibly could. It was all so simple, just them and their imagining and their love and bodies and heat. 

And now all Albus has is a mirror and memories.

“I love you.” He whispers, and he hears no answer. “I love you, Gellert.” And he desperately wants to hear it back, wants an answer, wants to hear something but he  _ can’t _ .

He presses into the mirror, as if he does so hard enough he’ll somehow fall into Gellert’s arms. “Even if you used me, even if all of it was a lie, I still love you.”

Albus feels pathetic, crying out to someone who does not hear, someone who may have never felt an ounce of what Albus felt for him back. “I miss you, I miss you so much.”

He can feel tears roll down his cheek, sees them hit the ground but he makes no move to wipe them away. He only watches them hit the floor, hand trembling where it’s stuck to the mirror against an image of a person who’s not really there.

He kneels there, crying and wishing and dreaming, for what feels like a small eternity. He doesn’t move until his legs begin to throb and his back and neck start to ache. He slowly stands up, almost falling right back down but he manages to catch himself. He looks into the mirror one last time, watches as Gellert tilts his head curiously, and then he covers it back up.

He returns to his office and heavily sits in the chair in front of his desk. He closes his eyes, tells himself that the only reason he had went into that room was because the Aurors that had visited earlier made him feel nostalgic, not that he finally had some sort of excuse to look into that damn mirror again. 

But he’s never been good at lying to himself when Gellert’s involved.

**Author's Note:**

> Man, I wrote this all in one sitting while listening to The Night We Met by Lord Huron and I’m sad as shit y’all.
> 
> This takes place during the crimes of Grindelwald, and I for some reason kinda imagined it happening before my fic I love you (with a touch of tragedy and quite madly), so there’s that.
> 
> It’s a bit short, but I still kinda like it lmao


End file.
